


Who Am I to Sympathize

by cherryavivi



Series: Something in the Water [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Pre-Canon, i took many liberties with this, if this doesn't line up w/ pre canon lore then tough, passing glances at the seeds, this is just my deputy's backstory, we're gonna get into the good stuff soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17399801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryavivi/pseuds/cherryavivi
Summary: There's a new family in town. Talk about sin and repentance is exchanged, and Hope County Police Department's newest recruit is reflecting on her own past.





	Who Am I to Sympathize

**Author's Note:**

> This is just character backstory and some world building for context for my series going forward  
> Hope y'all enjoy.  
> If you don't just fuckin'.  
> Comment and tell me why lol.

 

  It’s difficult for me to sleep. When I close my eyes, I just see memories. Sometimes I’ll see people. Friends, family. But most nights it’s the memories that keep me awake, keep me tossing and turning until finally, I give up. To say I become frustrated is an understatement. I’m thrown into a rage that more often than not ends in broken crystal glasses and overturned coffee tables. I used to burn the pictures, too. I’d throw them into the fiery inferno of my fireplace until there was nothing left in the albums but empty plastic pages. 

  When my alarm blares at five, however, the destruction of the hours before is erased, the clock reset. My routine begins anew. Get ready, get to work, grab a coffee, get started on a good portion of the station’s paperwork. It’s an endless cycle of normalcy, or at least it was until things started changing in the county.

  There’s a new family in town. Some religious brothers and an ever-rotating cast of young women they call “Faith.” They’re getting to be real popular among Hope County, for a varying degree of reasons. Locals hate them, but the flock of newcomers surrounding the quartet at all times swear by “The Voice” and “The Father.” I once met one of their followers, a middle-aged woman standing outside of the police department while all of the early shift officers were filing in, and the late-night patrols were shuffling out. Obviously, a newcomer, as I hadn’t seen her in a bar or at church. She gave me a smile too wide and beautiful to not be loaded with poison and pushed a flier into my hands.

   “Please, join us on Sunday in Fall’s End!”

   She didn’t phrase it as a question. It was an order disguised as a polite request, and I didn’t appreciate in my dangerously decaffeinated state it at five thirty in the morning.

   “I’m already a member of Pastor Jerome’s congregation, but have a nice day,” I shot back with a faux cheery attitude and nightshade smile of my own.  
 

   When I threw my coat down at my desk and proceeded to sip on the black coffee bitter enough to rid my body of the sleeplessness I wasn’t able to wash off in that morning’s arctic shower, I decided to see what exactly these people were marketing.

   Although badly wrinkled, the sheet was still legible. There was a picture of a man with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing clothes too rich for the county and just looked like he underpaid his workers. There was a falsely kind smile plastered on his face, which in all honesty looked more like the smug smirk of a snake oil salesman. Behind him was an embellished cross. It was too modified to be Christian but too Christian to be taken as anything else. Next to him and his twisted cross were the words “WE LOVE YOU AND WE WILL TAKE YOU.” It sounded less like the comforting statement it was probably meant to be and more like an ominous threat.

  There was something inside of me that wouldn’t let me crumple the strange woman’s flier up and bury it in the trash can with everything else that wasn’t relevant to my job. My desk is up against a wall, and the department so graciously gifted me a corkboard to post notes or hang pictures of my family or whatever it was meant to be used for. It, along with my desk, had remained empty, void of any sense of personality. Up until now.

  I borrowed some pins from Joey Hudson, a deputy whose desk was in front of mine. It was filled with all sorts of colorful mementos that marked the space as something more than just a place to get work done. She seemed shocked when I gave her a rushed and whispered good morning. She had a right to. I never talked to anyone at work, or anywhere else, for that matter.

  Thankfully, instead of a humorous “well, look who talks!” Hudson just nodded, smiled, and gave me a box of blue push pins. They were pretty. A blue like the eyes of the mystery man who was soon to be the only thing decorating my admittedly bland office space.

  When I sat back down, I looked at the flier again.

WE LOVE YOU

AND WE WILL TAKE YOU

  Tentatively, I pinned the wrinkled sheet onto the board. It looked out of place. A single message next to a vast expanse of nothingness. Maybe I’d have to find something else to put up there, just to balance out the vague feeling of cultism the flier was undoubtedly projecting to the rest of the station. Eh. That could wait until tomorrow.

  With a contented sigh, I began my work. Hours and hours’ worth of paperwork had to get done, and of course, it was the Rookie’s job to do so.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters r gonna b short bc I don't like lumping a lot of stuff together that can be easily separated. Plus this is the intro so.


End file.
